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remains of what had been menprobably, it was hard to tell now. Ian brought his eyes back to Alinor. |
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"I lost my temper," he said inadequately, then, distantly, remembered why. "I thoughtAre you all right? Did they" |
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"I am quite unharmed. Unhurt. No one touched me except to bind my hands and lift me from one horse to another." |
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Alinor's words were slow and distinct, her voice exaggeratedly soothing, but Ian's eyes were quite sane now, merely shadowed with a faint anxiety. Alinor let her hands slide from his face to his shoulders. He sighed, remembering terror, but as a faint, faraway thing. |
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"The way you were lyingI thought you were dead." |
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"No. The fools did not even take my eating knife from me, and they tied my wrists in front. I curled up so that they would not see me freeing my hands while they stood and argued." |
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"I see. Well, thank God we were in time." He glanced around again. The killing done seemed unnecessarily brutal, but what was wrong with everyone? "Do you remember how many men there were, Alinor?" |
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"Fourteen," she replied promptly, still watching him. |
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He could not understand her expression. That was most peculiar also, but he was too tired to ask. "Good," he replied. "You keep your head." |
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"Why not? I was not even much frightened." If she had been shaken to a jelly, Alinor would not have admitted it. The last thing she wanted was to set Ian off again. She allowed one hand to drop away from him, but she touched his cheek with the other. "You should not allow yourself to be so overset," she suggested gently. "If they had been clever, they would never have laid hands upon me. Since they were so stupid as to try to take me, you should have known I |
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